


I dream of a red Christmas

by curiumKingyo



Series: Connor's Guide to the Love and Care of Hank Anderson [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Hank, Chest Hair, Come Eating, Established Relationship, Lingerie, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Top Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 00:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiumKingyo/pseuds/curiumKingyo
Summary: Hank is volunteering as Santa and Connor is his helper, nothing out of ordinary until Hank reveals a surprise present for his very good boy.





	I dream of a red Christmas

Christmas Eve is, understandably, the busiest day at the Santa Claus trailer but Hank is used to this. Thanks to his genetic he had gone very grey very early and he decided to make something good out of it by volunteering as Santa. When Cole died the whole holiday season became too painful and he stopped participating in the celebrations.

This is the first time in many years he has donned the red suit and fluffy hat and he doesn't love it like he used to but he must admit that seeing Connor happily helping him on his Santa helper costume is a great reward on and by itself. It is a red shirt under a green velvet overall with poofy shorts and thick white socks up to his knees, a green hat sits on his head. That little curl that never sits in place peeks from under the white brim of the hat.

They are the last ones on the Christmas village set on the community center downtown Detroit, which is exactly what Hank wanted. The other volunteers had left a little before 9, and Hank offered to tidy and close the trailer since the only person who would spend the holidays with him was there already. The rest of the team bids them goodbye and leave chatting amicably between themselves.

“How is your first Christmas going so far?” Hank asks Connor as they move the photography equipment to the storage room.

“This is not my first Christmas,” Connor replies, a little confused. “I was already activated and deviated on Christmas last year.”

Hank dismisses his argument with a wave of his hand.

“Yeah, but last year doesn't count. It was too messy and chaotic. No one had a decent Christmas last year.”

Connor hums thoughtfully, Hank is not wrong on his assessment. By this time last year Connor still lived at an androids only sector of the city in a tiny room with nothing but a chair and an energy outlet. He didn't have a salary to buy gifts for those he liked and he, Markus, and the other members of Jericho were working day and night to advance lawmaking and securing rights for their fellow androids.

It was not a decent Christmas, Hank is right.

“Well, my first decent Christmas has been perfect so far,” he replies with a genuine smile. “Thanks a lot for volunteering with me.”

Hank smiles fondly at him, he beckons Connor closer with a hitch of his fingers. Connor obediently closes the trailer and crosses the little distance between them. Hank cradles his face between his hands, the thick white gloves feel soft against Connor's sensors and he smiles a little.

They kiss, slow and sweet. Both of them are deeply fond of kissing and they never miss an opportunity to enjoy the intimacy and tenderness of the act. Slowly Hank pulls away, keeping his gloves hands on Connor's face, stroking his thumbs over his cheeks.

“No need to thank me,” he says, earnestly. “In fact, I should thank you for bringing me back here. For bringing me back to life.”

Connor steps closer, presses his face on the crook of Hank's neck. They hug and share little kisses for a tender moment before Connor speaks again.

“Let's go home?” He asks, looking up at Hank with his puppy dog eyes. Hank smirks.

“Sure. Just help me out of this suit, will you?”

Connor smirks, runs his fingers down the white fluff on the brim of Hank's coat.

“You never required help before.”

“I am old and tired,” Hank says with a returning smirk. “And today was busier than ever, I think my little helper could assist me?”

Connor leans up and presses a soft kiss to Hank's lips. He slides his hands down the thick velvet of Hank's suit, feeling the shape of his chest and belly underneath. He reaches the large black belt and undoes it quickly, once it is open Connor slips his hands down the loose tails of the coat.

Hank's skin is very warm and soft and Connor hums happily as he gropes his sides. Connor slides his hands up, reaching for the neck of the coat to slip it off.

“Hank?”

Connor's sensors capture something he isn't expecting. He takes a step back as he pushes the coat off Hank's shoulders.

“Connor,” Hank replies with a smirk as Connor's eyes grow big and glassy with desire as the coat falls off and reveals a cherry red lace bralette with a white satin bow tied between the cups. The see-through fabric is stretched obscenely tight across Hank's generous chest.

With reverent hands Connor gently cups Hank's tightly wrapped chest, creating a deep valley between Hank's tiddies. Connor buries his face there, inhaling deeply the faded cologne and rising musk, his tongue shyly laps at the skin capturing traces of clean sweat and soap and the fabric softener he had used when washing the cute lingerie.

“I know we should wait until tomorrow to give the presents but you've been such a good boy I thought you deserved a little treat today.”

Connor groans, shivers when Hank's voice slides like warm honey through his aural sensors, the frequency and cadence sending pops of electricity down his core.

“I don't have anything for you here,” Connor says weakly, kneading and groping Hank's chest with gusto.

“Oh, you do,” Hank replies darkly. He pulls Connor closer and grind their crotches together, unsurprisingly Connor is half hard already and he keens when Hank presses against him.

Connor's hands run down Hank's body and rest on the waistband of his trousers. He is shaking slightly.

“Is it a matching set?”

“You offend me with this question,” Hank says, voice that dark rumble against Connor's processing center. He holds Connor's wrist and guides his hand inside his pants. Connor moans when he feels satin and lace stretched tight over Hank's cock. There is a small wet spot growing on the front.

“Can we go to the chair, please.”

“You want a turn on Santa's lap?”

Connor's reply is a glitchy sound, and Hank laughs, deep and slow, as he guides Connor to the chair. Hank sits on it imperiously, none of the soft and warm smiles he has for the children. He owns the place in that moment, big and smirking darkly with mischief in his blue eyes.

The cherry red of his bralette is the exact same hue as the chair and the visual effect is stunning. The contrast of his white skin and dark red, the silvery whorls of hair on his chest and arms. The cute little bow on the center.

Connor stops dead on his tracks, just analyzing the whole picture. The light, the goosebumps pebbling Hank's skin - either because of the cold or the expectation it is hard to tell. He is brought back by Hank's grin.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Who said I didn't?”

Hank blushes slightly but takes it in stride. He smiles with more charm, puffs out his chest and spreads his legs, his erection plain visible on his lap.

Connor steps closer and kneels in front of Hank, runs his hands up and down his legs.

“Well, you asked me to help you out of this suit, no?”

Hank moans a little as Connor squeezes his thighs lightly, nuzzling his knee with a falsely coy look on his eyes. Connor takes off the heavy polished boots and runs his hands up Hank's legs, squeezing and caressing as he goes. There is a row of buttons holding the trousers closed and Connor makes a show of popping them open, slowly revealing the panties - a red satin panel in the front, the sides made of lace and softly denting the generous flesh around Hank's hips. Two tiny white bows decorate the sides and Connor smooths them carefully because their little tails were ruffled by the movement.

Connor slowly tugs the trousers down, revealing not only the matching panties but also white satin stockings with a red lace trim on the top and the same little white bows.

“I must have been very good this year,” Connor says reverently as he runs his fingertips on the lace tightly hugging Hank's thighs.

“You've been the best,” Hank says, equally flustered, breath already short and face blushing a deep pink.

Connor stands up, making sure to caress every inch of Hank on the way. Once he is standing up he leans forward, plants one knee on each side of chair so he can straddle Hank's lap. They don't kiss but keep sharing little nips and licks, nuzzling and rubbing their faces together softly and tenderly.

Hank holds Connor's slim waist, plays with the straps of his overalls, brings their bodies as close as they can be. He loves the teasing and playing but he is growing impatient. He's been wearing this outfit all day long, fantasizing about the moment Connor would finally unwrap his so-called present and make good use of it.

Meanwhile Connor can't keep his hands away from Hank's chest, so precariously hidden and held by the red lace. Hank isn't surprised, different textures always please Connor and his ultra precise sensors. He knows the android is cataloguing each interaction of fabric, skin, hair, lace; creating a sensory palette in his endless memory bank.

With a pained grunt Connor pulls away. His eyes are going in and out of focus and his cheeks are blushing furiously. Hank is about to ask what is the matter when he realizes Connor is just struggling to remove his own outfit. Hank smirks, bats Connor's hands away and promptly unclasps the straps and fastenings of Connor's Santa Helper costume.

As soon as the green overall is out of the way Connor throws himself back at Hank, this time leaning down to capture his mouth in a hungry kiss. Connor sucks the air out of Hank's lungs, leaves him light-headed and shivering as the human does his best to follow the demanding rhythm of Connor's lips and tongue.

With a last suck to Hank's bottom lip Connor leans back a little. They are both panting, Connor's inner core temperature has risen and he is taking deep, ragged breaths to bring it down before it triggers a reboot on his system. Hank's lips are as red as his lingerie, kiss swollen and shiny and tingling, his beard is messed up around his mouth.

“Fuck, you'll give me a heart attack,” Hank mumbles, voice wrecked.

Connor smirks and cups his chest on both hands. “I don't think so, your heart is beating at a perfectly healthy rhythm and cadence.”

“Are you sure?” Hank arches his back, exposes more of his chest for Connor. “Maybe you should check more thoroughly?”

Connor emits a small, glitchy sound directly from his voice box, his mouth hanging open and useless. Hank smirks in response, full of himself for causing such a reaction on the super advanced android. With no further words Connor pushes Hank's tits closer together, creating a nice, deep cleavage he leans forward and with some minor fumbling he slides his cock in that soft valley.

Hank groans, puffs out his chest, throws his head back until it thumps against the worn red velvet of the chair. Connor has never hidden his appreciation for Hank's generous figure but to have him losing control like this is a true power rush. Connor ruts against him with tight thrusts, grunting and buzzing with effort and lust.

Connor's eyes are closed but his vision is taken by blinking lights and running numbers. His cock slides deliciously against soft, warm skin and pretty lace. His precum flows from the dark head of his cock and the liquid sticks to the soft whorls of hair, clumping them and making a soggy mess.

Hank's heart beat seems to vibrate against Connor's cock. The sensors on his sexual hardware are not finely tuned to this sort of analysis but it is impossible not to feel it thrumming in excitement as Connor fucks Hank's chest with abandon. His balls slap Hank's belly, his thighs snap against his sides as Connor thrusts fast and hard, skin fading from his hands where he is greedily holding Hank's chest.

“Connor…” Hank groans, hands groping and kneading Connor's ass, propelling him that little bit harder and higher.

“Touch yourself,” Connor demands, asks, pleads - it's impossible to tell with the way his voice is warped in desperate pleasure. Hank grunts, squeezes Connor's ass one more time before bringing his hand down to palm at his crotch.

Hank's cock is fully hard, had been for a while now, the dark head of his erection is peeking from under the lace, too big to be contained by such a delicate piece. He doesn't even bother to properly remove the lingerie, just brings the elastic band down enough to free his cock, holding it with one hand as the other started a frantic pace over his erection.

They move out of sync, there is no rhythm or thought just the need to reach the end. Connor's knees make oddly mechanical squeaking sounds as he continues to rut and grind against Hank, the coolers on his lower back whirring loudly to dissipate the heat gathering in his core. 

Hank is not faring much better. There is sweat gathering on his neck, making the little hairs at his nape curl and stick to his skin, he is grunting and his hips are moving up and down is short, uncoordinated spasms.

Connor's hands tighten their already bruising grip on Hank's chest when he finally comes. His artificial spend bubbles from the tip of his cock and drips down the valley between Hank's tits. Connor continues thrusting, weak and desperate, until the last drop lands, sticky and hot, on Hank's hairy chest. The android stops moving, his biocomponents recalibrating, the knee joints being realigned and the fans slowing down to a soft droning noise. He stays there, limp and soft, arms falling to his sides, cock trapped between Hank's come splattered chest and his soaked bralette. His mouth hangs half open, his eyes are wide and unfocused.

He is gorgeous.

Hank leans forward, his forehead bumping the thin raised line that glows around his Thirium pump regulator. Blindly he presses his face against it, kisses the center of Connor's chest with reverence, feels it thrumming under synthetic skin and spit slick lips.

Hank comes with a small sound that almost gets lost on the rush of blood on his own ears. He tries to catch the abundant liquid in his shaking hands but some of it shoots too high and splashes on Connor's legs, drips down his own belly and crotch. Between him and Connor, they have made a true mess of him.

Connor comes back to his wits and with a gentle push he makes Hank lean back against the chair. They stare at each other, full of affection and giddy in their afterglow, Connor is smiling when he plants a soft kiss on Hank's lips. The kiss is short lived, though, as Connor quickly slips down from his perch on Hank's lap to stand before him. Hank easily recognizes the way Connor is looking at his come covered chest and bralette.

Slowly he brings his hands up and, mimicking Connor's earlier position, brings his tits together in a tempting fashion. Connor doesn't resist.

The android falls face first in that soft cleavage, licking and lapping noisily at the come clinging to skin and fabric and hair. His HUD is a fireworks show, flashing with warnings and readings on the temperature of Hank's body, his blood pressure and heart beats, as well as the composition of his sweat and the Thirium of his own come and even the fibers of the bralette.

Connor has a doped smile on his face when he finishes cleaning Hank's chest. Hank kisses him sweetly before bringing his come stained hands and offering his fingers for Connor to clean. He takes the task to heart, licking and slurping on the come on Hank's palm and between his fingers. Once his hands are clean Connor occupies himself with the come pooling on the crease between his crotch and leg and the stray droplets adorning his lower belly.

When they are as clean as Connor's tongue can make them Hank pulls Connor back into his lap. He cards his still sticky fingers down messy hair and Connor idly caresses his face and neck, absentmindedly playing with his beard.

“We must actually go home now,” Hank says after a long, comfortable moment of silence. Connor makes a small, annoyed noise but doesn't resist when Hank starts moving. Hank helps Connor out of his costume and they slowly dress up back in their regular clothes. Usually they would leave the outfits at the trailer but neither of them feels like doing so now, both costumes need a thorough washing before they can return them with some dignity.

Connor folds the clothes and puts them on a big duffle bag while Hank finishes locking and turning off the lights of the trailer. They leave a little after ten, hand in hand, with sated smiles on their faces.

“I really enjoyed my present,” Connor says, suddenly acting bashful. Hank squeezes his hand for a second before bringing it up to kiss his knuckles.

“Your present is at home,” he says with a little smirk. Connor stops on his track, tilting his head in an adorable expression of confusion and curiosity.

“But you said…”

“That you were a very good boy, and that's true. I never said that was your only present, though.”

Connor's LED blinks yellow for a second before he opens a little malicious grin of his own.

“I guess this means you aren't being a good boy,” he presses his body against Hank's in a suggestive manner.

“I guess not,” Hank brushes a stray piece of hair behind Connor's ear.

“Then, it's my duty as an official good boy to punish you for being naughty,” he announces, biting lightly on Hank's ear for emphasis. A shiver runs down Hank's spine.

“I can't argue with that,” he says, stealing another kiss before ushering Connor into the car so they can finally go home and start their holiday celebration.


End file.
